All I Want For Christmas Is You
by Breadaknee
Summary: What I want for Christmas is... My two front teeth. Hah! Nah, I’m just messing with you. I already have my front teeth; not to mention all of the other thirty-something ones in my mouth as well. Duh. JackxAnn; SS Giftfic for Moonlit Dreaming.


_**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.**_

_Woo, finally finished! **Moonlit Dreaming, **I hope you like this! Your wishlist was kinda hard to get an idea off of, but I tried my best. And I really can't write fluffiness and the ending isn't all that great, but it's still full of fluff and Christmas cookie goodness. Hopefully. :)_

_Merry Christmas!_

* * *

Sometimes, I just really, really, _really_ hate the holidays. Especially Christmas. _Definitely _Christmas. Because Christmas sucks more than that awesome new Dyson vacuum cleaner I ordered from that woman/man/whatever-that-hostess-_was_ on the Shopping Channel a month ago.

To put it simply, Christmas is an annoying chore that I cannot be bothered with. It's always 'cook this, buy that, wrap this, decorate that'. The aftermath of Christmas day is even worse: take down the tree, put the lights away, stick those boxes of decorations down into the musty basement, _oh_, and not to mention, do all of those dishes, Ann! Where is the fun in that? What is the point of putting up _ridiculous_ décor and then tearing it all down soon after? Christmas should be like Halloween; kids dress up as giant Santas and people pass out Christmas candy. Bam, end of story. Short, simple, sweet.

And, _really_, who wants to hear Rick blabber about the ring he bought for Karen or Popuri constantly asking everyone if they think Kai will send her a present from Goddess-Knows-Where anytime soon?

Not me, that's who.

Seriously, how do people _enjoy_ shopping for others? I can hardly buy anything for my dad, let alone a significant other (which, mind you, does not pertain to me) or a friend. Christmas shopping is nauseating, specifically in Mineral Town. Everyone knows about everything, including what gifts were bought from whom, for whom. Geez, why try to keep stuff like that a secret? It's a futile attempt. Surprise is the whole idea about presents, and without it, Christmas is boring!

So, yes. Mineral Town pretty much sucked the Christmas spirit out of me.

And the worst thing is…

People are starting to notice.

* * *

"So," Gray says as we both stare at the large rectangular box on the floor, "let me get this straight. You're going to pay me to put up this tree _and_ decorate it?"

I nodded, hands on my hips. "Yup."

He huffs out a small, exasperated noise. "Why don't you just do it yourself?"

I scrunch up my nose in disgust and try not to snap at Gray for his innocent little question. Really, how is he supposed to know that I'd rather marry the Kappa than do anything Christmas-related?

And that is saying a lot, too, because the Kappa is freaky. _Way_ freaky. Like, freakier then Karen's humongous bed-head the morning after she drinks three bottles of wine and attempts that weird dance move that she once properly labeled as _headbanging_.

"Eff that, man. I'd rather not."

Gray continues to look at the box as if it is somehow going to perform tricks for him. Or perhaps fasten itself together, because there is no way I'm going to lay a finger on it. "Well, Ann, it is your inn and _your_ job to put up this Christmas tree."

"How in the world did you know that?!" I ask him, my voice wavering on the fine line between screeching and yelling, as I flailed my arms around beside him. He shoots me an odd look and I can, beyond a doubt, tell he's weirded out. But, hey, people usually are when they hang out with me long enough.

Oh well.

"About it being your inn? Well your dad _does_-"

"Not that, you crazy fruitcake!" I shout, jabbing at his chest with my pointer finger. "How did you find out that putting up the tree was my job?"

Gray blinks twice, fidgets with his sleeves, and then messes with the hat that is strategically placed on top of his head. I wouldn't be surprised if he said he was born with it attached to him.

"Uhhh…Doug?" he offers weakly, shrugging. "He's kinda loud. I overheard him this morning telling you to decorate the inn."

"Yeah right, ya freakin' creeper," I exclaim, crossing my arms. "Now are you gonna do it or what?"

He sighs dramatically. "Ugh…"

I snap my fingers in front of my face twice before saying, "_Ohhh_, don't give me that crap! You live here, so deal with it," I glare at him, "Gray, I do your laundry, make your bed, and even cook your dinner. I'm practically your mom, but just the same age as you. Don't you wanna do something special for your lovely young mother?"

"Fine," Gray sighs again, "Ann, fine. But you owe me."

"Yes," I grin triumphantly, "I owe you exactly twenty bucks."

He shrugs and starts opening the large box on the floor. "I need the extra cash anyway."

"Good, because I want the free-time."

He whips his head around, a bewildered look smacked across his face. "For what?!"

"For my Special Ann Needs," I state as I walk away. "Thank you very much."

I hear Gray groan loudly. "Yeah, just forget I asked."

My lips twitch into a tiny smirk and I wave at him over my shoulder. "Whatevs, doll face. I'm out."

* * *

Running into my father at random times is never a pleasant event._ Literally_ running into my father? Yeah, even more unpleasant.

"OW!"

"Oh, Ann! I found you!"

"Duh, you pretty much _barreled_ into me, ya old man!" I shout, massaging my poor abused skull. If I don't get eighteen different bruises on my head, I'll be very surprised. Leave it to Doug to go to the extreme to locate me…in our own inn.

_Geez, can my life get any worse?_

"I need to know what you want for Christmas so I can get shopping done early this year!"

_It just did._

"First off," I place my hands on my hips, "you can _never_ get your shopping done early, Dad. You procrastinate too much. Secondly, you don't need to get me anything. Besides, what do _you_ want?"

He crosses his arms and shakes his head at me. "I asked you first."

"Well I asked you second!"

Doug makes a loud _'hmph'_ noise before opening his mouth again. "I don't want anything, Ann. Just a big hug and kiss from my own, wonderful daughter will be good enough for me."

I throw my hands up, frustrated and beyond annoyed. "What is with you people?! Dad, I can't _buy that! _You suck!"

And here, ladies and gentlemen, is a perfect example why the holidays are a pain in my braided hair. Seriously, why do people think it's okay to buy someone a gift and tell them that _they_ don't want anything in return? It just makes the gift-receiver feel like crap, is all!

Dad, do you see what you are doing to my conscious?! Well, DO YOU?!

"Whatever, Ann," Doug rolls his eyes. "Just tell me what you want so I can be on my merry way."

_Merry? __**Merry?! **_What's merry about bashing your only daughter's brain out of her skull by knocking yourself into her? Nothing, that's what!

"I-," I start before immediately snapping my mouth shut.

You know, I never really gave it much thought as to what I wanted for Christmas. I'm just too busy hating on the holiday to actually think of anything else. Oops.

So I do the only thing I can think of.

I blink.

Doug waits.

I blink again.

He fidgets. "Well?"

I open my mouth again to retort with something witty and sarcastic, but to my surprise, nothing comes out. I blink again, probably looking like a stupid fish that just doesn't get that it belongs in water and _not_ on land, and stare at my father, who resembles a frightened child. Great, now my own father is weirded out by me. Cool.

But really. What _do _I want for Christmas? Hmmm…

…

Well, heck. I don't even know.

_Crap._

"Yeah, I'll have to get back to you on that one, Doug," I say as I leave my dad standing in the middle of the hallway.

"That's _Dad_ to you!" he yells after me, making me laugh as I slam the door shut.

* * *

I walk back into the front room of the inn a few minutes later to see Gray slaving away over the tree in the far corner.

"You're still working on this stupid old thing?" I ask as I stroll up behind him.

He grunts, head buried in a mountain of fake, prickly green branches. "It appears so."

I watch as he struggles to jam a metal branch into its correct position. "Uh…why don't you just read the directions?"

Gray stops, turns around, and begins to glare at me. "Pfffft," he rolls his eyes, "I don't _need_ directions."

_Typical._

What's up with the whole macho-guy-thing and not needing directions? Obviously Gray has never put up a tree before in his life, so basically, he needs help. I shake my head at his pitiful attempt at putting up the Christmas tree.

"Idiot," I breathe out lowly.

Gray accidentally drops a branch and curses. "What was that, Ann?"

"Uh!" I panic, my eyes widening. "Nothing! Lookin' _gooood_, Gray."

"What—the tree, or my backside?"

A very unladylike snort escapes me before I can stop it. Only emo, stoic little Gray could surprise me by saying something like that. "You'll just have to wonder."

"Splendid."

Suddenly, a trail of goose-bumps prickle up my arm and a cool, chilling breeze blows against the back of my neck. I tilt my head to the side slightly as a flash of dark brown invades my peripheral vision.

_"Ann."_

"Jack."

The farmer likes to invade my personal space, if you haven't noticed already. Mary calls it 'teasing', but I just consider it 'being a douche'. I've gotten used to it over the past few months, but ever since I told him to go take a long hike off a short cliff, Jack's been…different. He'll just somehow, mysteriously sneak up behind me before I notice him and then flit away, leaving me with a really freaky-weird feeling hovering over me. I can't explain it because, well, I don't actually know what it is. Yet.

Gah.

"Should I help him?" Jack asks—successfully ripping me away from my thoughts— and points at the disgruntled Gray who is now trying to string multi-colored lights around the now upright tree.

"I ain't paying you, too."

A dark brown eyebrow rises considerably high. "What's your problem?"

"NOTHING'S MY PROBLEM!" I scream frantically. Gray jumps a few feet in the air, startled, and Jack covers his ears. Of course, my dad is nowhere in sight. "Don't you have, like, cows to milk or something?!"

"Ow. _My ears_, Ann. Thanks."

"Get over it!"

"And," Jack waves me off with a flick of his wrist, "I already milked my cows around six this morning. So, yeah. But that's not the point. You're hatin' on that tree for a reason, aren't you?"

I facepalm. Jack was always so _nosey_. "Why do you care?" I ask, face still buried in my hand.

I jump a little when I feel his large hand splay across my back, and bite my lip when the same hand begins to rub soothing circles, easing the stress I didn't even know I had away. "You seem tired."

"I'm not enjoying Christmas this year," I blurt out. His hand stills on the middle of back, but he doesn't pull away. And I want to punch myself. For letting his hand stay there, of course. I should be pushing him away! Yelling in his face! Smacking him, even!

Sometimes, I hate how my brain and body correspond with each other. They usually never agree on anything.

"Why?" he asks, dark eyes on Gray's decorating job. At one point Gray had brought out a ladder, and the lights were already situated at the very top of the stupid fake tree. Kudos to Gray for finally getting it done.

I roll my eyes at him and twist out of his grasp. Yeah, like I'm about to confide in _Jack._ Blasphemy, I tell you!

"Why are you even here, Jack?"

"Oh," he grins, unmoved by my sudden shyness with his touch, "I just wanted to know what you want for Christmas this year."

"My two front teeth," I deadpan.

"Hahaha," Jack frowns. "No, Ann, really."

"Sorry, but you should have been here thirty minutes ago when I had my huge epiphany. Turns out that I really don't know what I want."

"You…don't know?"

I give him a hard stare. "That's what I said."

"I'm thinking you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Shut up, Jack."

"Be quiet, Ann, and listen."

"No," I point at him. "You listen! I don't want any gifts! Why should you get me something when I don't plan on getting you anything?"

"Because I want to. I really don't want anything either, except for your beautiful, smiling face on Christmas day."

I smack my forehead. Hard. "I'm sure," I mumble. This sort of resembled my earlier conversation with my dad, but this time I had a fluttering feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.

Seriously, why do people do this to me on the holidays? Why?!

Jack smirks and flashes me a slow, sensual wink. Oh sweet merciful candy canes, was he trying to kill me? If my heart wasn't thumping a mile a second two minutes ago, it is now.

"Womanizer," I finally grumble.

"Big grump," he whispers under his breath quietly, smiling.

Before I can say another word to Jack, Mister I-Almost-Killed-My-Daughter-By-Bumping-Into-Her strolls up to us and claps the farmer on the back. "Jack, my boy! Haven't seen you in a while, son!"

Lie. He just saw Jack three days ago when he came in to eat dinner with Cliff. How Jack can talk to Cliff is beyond me, mind you. But apparently they're best buds. Eh, beats me.

"Yeah, I'm leaving before I grow old of boredom," I say, rolling my eyes as my dad continues to talk to Jack as if I wasn't even there in the first place.

I turn my back on a confused-looking Jack and a frustrated Gray trying to place ornaments on the tree.

Gray is _soooo_ not getting that twenty bucks I promised him.

Heh heh.

* * *

Spending Christmas day in the kitchen?

Yeah, it isn't fun.

But apparently my dad thinks it's okay for me to slave away by a hot stove all morning so we can eat a proper 'Christmas dinner'. If he wants one so much, he should do this himself!

Then again, I don't trust him all too much with a whole ham. Sure, he's a superb cook; but stick him, a ham, and an oven in a room together and that just equals complete chaos. Don't even get me started on what happened last Christmas.

It's quite a…touchy subject.

And Jack? _Please_ don't get me started on him! Does he think it's okay to just strut around the inn like he owns the place? Well, I got news for him: he doesn't own this place! I do! Sorta, kinda. Almost. STILL! The past week he's been following me around and asking me odd, out of the blue questions like he's entitled to do so without repercussions!

"_What's your favorite color, Ann?"_

"_Blue."_

_"Favorite food?"_

"_Ugh. Really? Rice cakes."_

_"Favorite eye and hair color?"_

" _Not yours, Jack."_

_"Well, I like blue eyes."_

" _I'm sure you do, Jack, I'm sure you do."_

_…_

_"And redheads."_

I slam the pot on the counter and remind myself that I do _not _need to think of such things. Of course, I've avoided Jack like the Black Plague for the past few days. After he had said those last two words to me, I fled like the hopeless coward I am.

Yes, I can admit at least that much.

And I can also admit that, _yes_, my favorite eye and hair color is most definitely _brown _(yeah, I kinda lied to Jack, oh well).

So, am I afraid of these feelings I have developed for Jack? Probably. Do I regret having these feelings? Nope. Nuh uh. No way, no how.

I honestly couldn't tell you when I recognized that the freaky-weird feeling I was having was actually akin to liking someone. Most likely when Jack inadvertently (or not so much) told me he liked me as well, but I digress.

But, seriously. _Jack?_ I had to fall in lo-

Scratch that.

I had to _like Jack_, of all people?

"Falalalala, Christmas sucks!" I singsong as I place the pot of stuffing on the stove.

"Oh, is that going to be your new hit single?"

I scream and fling around so fast that a wave of dizziness washes over me and I have to grip the edge of the counter to keep myself from falling.

"HOLY STOCKINGSTUFFERS!!!"

Jack grins, unabashed. "See, Ann? You have more Christmas spirit than you give yourself credit for."

I blush so hard that my tomato-red cheeks heat the already warm kitchen and I try to ignore the bright, flashy white smile Jack is sending my way.

"OMG, Jack! What are you doing here, you stalker?!" I ask loudly, keeping my voice level to the best of my ability.

If Jack knew…Oh, dear, if Jack knew…

"Why are you so red, Ann? Is it too hot in here? Maybe you should take a break for a while-"

"Jack! I don't care! Why are you here?"

"Wait," he looks at me for a few seconds, "didn't your dad tell you?"

I blow out a shaky breath. "Tell me what?!"

"That I'm celebrating Christmas with you two today."

It takes a few minutes for his last statement to sink in. And when it finally does, I can't breathe. A whole day…with Jack?! And my father? But mostly Jack?! My eyes widen and I'm surprised that my face can redden even more than it already has.

"Uhhh…uh..I…"

Oh good goddess, my dad is the most unluckiest man in the world at this very moment for putting me in this awkward position. In fact, if he doesn't run out of this inn in less than ten seconds, Doug is a dead man.

"Ooo! DOUG! I'm going to kill you!"

And before Jack can do anything about it, I bolt out of the kitchen door after my father. Well, if I can find him, that is. The truth is, I don't care if I find him or not. Because the longer it takes, the longer I don't have to be with Jack. And he's pretty much what I'm running away from right now.

"Ann!" Jack yells after me. "Ann, stop!"

By now I've checked the entire inn without a trace of my father. All the better to go outside and look for him. Irrational? Check. Significant step in my two-part plan to avoid Jack? Oh heck yes.

But, seeing as how I have horrible luck, I don't make it five steps out the door before Jack latches onto my arm.

"_Ann._ What is your problem? Why are you running?"

"My," I pant heavily, "father."

Jack frowns at me. "Why?"

"Because," I breathe, caught in his dark chocolate brown eyes, "because…I…"

"You what, Ann? Did you take some crazy pills this morning?"

"No, no," I say distantly, realization finally slapping me across the face:

I'm not going to find my father because he planned this whole thing all along. He ditched me and Jack so we could be alone. Apparently he thinks he's a brilliant matchmaker. Well, Doug sure did go through a lot of trouble to set this up.

"I think…I think I finally know what I want."

"Huh?" Jack scratches his head and stares at me, long and hard, with an odd look on his face.

I step closer to him, basking in the radiating warmth his body is giving off, and lock gazes with him. "For Christmas, Jack. I've had another epiphany; I know what I want."

"Uhhh…okay…well, what is it?"

I take a deep, calming breath, and just spill.

"You."

He's quiet and watches my face for what seems like hours, with nothing but the snow to witness our little scene.

"Not gonna lie," Jack suddenly declares; caressing my face, "that was pretty damn cheesy."

I scowl at him. "Shut up!"

He chuckles as I shiver. "Cold?"

"Yes."

"Come here," he says, opening up his arms to me.

I hug my arms to my chest, hesitant, and take a small step forward.

And then I think, _to hell with it_, and I just go with the flow. Why fight it? You know how tiring it is to fight against a strong current in a stream or ocean? Well, I was tired of fighting against my growing attraction towards Jack, and so what if my declaration was somewhat cheesy? At least I said it!

"I know it's cheesy, you idiot," I tell him as he hugs me to his chest. "Just go with the flow and kiss me already. I'm tired of waiting."

He looks down at me then, eyes wide and mouth agape. "_You're_ tired of waiting? What about me? I've been waiting for you to say something like that all year!"

Shocked, I start to mouth a, "What?", but I only manage to eek out an unintelligible, "Wha-?" before Jack's lips are on mine.

The kiss ends as quick as it started, and I reluctantly pull away. "Silly girl," Jack says as he smiles down at me. "I so know your favorite eye color is brown."

I laugh and he grabs my hand as we walk back inside.

Hmm…Maybe Christmas isn't so bad after all.

* * *

Yes, not my best, but I tried. So, let me know what you think, and Happy Holidays!


End file.
